


Bon Temps High School Football Rules!

by Edwardina



Category: Friday Night Lights, True Blood
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-11
Updated: 2009-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Taylors have moved to Bon Temps and are as stressed as ever, Jason has gotten a job and so has Julie, Sookie is... Sookie, and someone did something bad to Tim Riggins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bon Temps High School Football Rules!

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really kept up with FNL and wrote this after only consuming the first season of True Blood, so it may have a lot of inaccuracies and therefore should not be taken seriously. Expect a totally questionable timeline and rearranging of canon, vampirism and bad Southern accents.
> 
> Thank you to my darling Paige!

Morning dawned as always in Bon Temps, and vampires everywhere laid themselves to rest as Coach Eric Taylor and his family were rousing themselves from their new beds. It wasn't all that hard, because the phone was ringing off the hook and his wife Tami, voice scratchy, was demanding, "Now who on earth is callin' us at six-thirty in the morning on a Saturday?"

"I'll give you two guesses as to who is callin' us at six-thirty in the morning on a Saturday," Coach Taylor said. He limped out of bed in his boxers and undershirt to answer the phone, Tami's muttered "Oh, no," behind him.

"Eric!" exclaimed a voice, before he could even say hello.

"Buddy. It's six-thirty."

"Now, Eric --"

"And I am not a coach for the Dillon Panthers anymore, and I am now in another state, so you have no business callin' me about Pantherama or Coach What's-his-name, any other damn thing."

"Please," Buddy said, pitifully. "It's an emergency, Eric. I swear to you, I would not have called if it wasn't of the _gravest importance_."

Buddy was a really good salesman, which Coach Taylor momentarily forgot about. He couldn't imagine what would make Buddy use words like that unless someone had died.

"What is it?" he asked. Had something happened to Jason Street? It was kind of a strange thing to wonder, but that's what popped into his head, of all things.

"We just don't know what to do. The fact is, Tim Riggins didn't show up to practice on Monday, and we haven't seen a lick of him since."

" _Tim Riggins_? What, y'all still can't get him out of the senior class?"

"Well, he is an awful talented fullback," Buddy said solemnly. "Which is one of the many reasons I'm callin' you, Eric."

"What does this have to do with me?" Coach Taylor demanded, afraid to hear the reasons Buddy had concocted to support his decision to rouse the entire Taylor family -- who needed every single second of sleep they could get -- at the butt crack of dawn. Down the hall, Gracie Belle was making noises in her crib.

"It's not safe out there anymore," Buddy proclaimed. "You know how it is! Those vampires are everywhere now, preyin' on our children and takin' up our good real estate. Hell, Billy Riggins married one."

"I thought he married that... Colette girl," said Eric.

"That's my point, Coach. That's my point exactly."

"Well, I gotta be honest with you -- I'm not seein' this point of yours, Buddy. I haven't lived in Dillon for near a year now, so how the hell would I know where Tim Riggins is?" Coach Taylor hadn't even thought about Tim Riggins since the previous fall, when he had been trying to arrange his new team and hadn't found anyone who could fill whatever gap was needed like Riggins had always been able to.

"That boy has loyalty to you, Eric." Buddy's voice was warm, like this fact made him believe in Jesus Christ all over again. "Always has. He don't get along with Coach Harper at all. We've had trouble even keepin' him on the team, especially since Matt Saracen got shipped to Iraq. And now he's just taken off..."

Even at six-thirty-six in the morning, with hair that was unruly and sticking up on one side and no caffeine in his system whatsoever, Coach Taylor wasn't beyond having sympathies.

"I'll tell you what, Buddy," he said patiently. "If Tim Riggins turns up on my doorstep, I'll straighten him out and send him back to you -- otherwise, I can't do anything. I don't know if you remember my sayin' so, but I'm in Louisiana now and Panther football is no longer a part of my life."

"Of course. That's all I can ask you to do, Eric."

"Yes. Yes, it is. Now, I have to go look in on my two-year-old. She's all woken up."

"How is Gracie Belle!" Buddy exclaimed, sounding cheery again.

But Coach Taylor was already hanging up, so he just went ahead and finished the job, cutting off the call with a pointed slam of the phone into its cradle.

As if he didn't have enough to worry about -- summer practices, working with his QB, training that clueless assistant coach of his, appeasing the parents and staff of Bon Temps High School alike, _vampires_. Tim Riggins was a hell of a player and a boy with a lot of promise that was totally squandered and lost in Dillon, but that wasn't his business anymore. Contrary to what he'd told Buddy, he held no such illusions that Tim Riggins was going to drive to Louisiana just to crash in his garage like he'd done years back. He was gettin' to be an adult now, and he was probably in trouble somewhere, but not in Bon Temps.

Coach Taylor turned to find his wife leaning against the wall, looking unamused, gray circles under her eyes and her freckles standing out on her sleep-pale skin.

"Buddy hasn't figured out you've broken up with him yet?" she asked dryly. She was wearing one of his Bon Temps High School Athletics t-shirts, but hadn't put on anything underneath it yet.

"Ha ha," Coach Taylor said, advancing on her. "You think you're so clever. Think you're so smart..."

Tami was warm in his arms, still heavy and pliable with sleep, and she looped arms around his neck, nodding in definite agreement of her smarts.

"I'll show you smart," he threatened lovingly.

 

 

In spite of the phone waking her up early, Julie was running late, speeding in her sneakers up the dusty drive to Merlotte's, bag over her shoulder. In fact, it was because the phone had woken her up early and she'd gotten up for a few minutes to put a stop to Gracie Belle's fussing that she'd slept through her alarm. At eleven, lunch patrons were already crowding the place.

"Hi, Sam!" she called, the minute she burst through the door. "Sorry I'm late!"

"No problem, Julie," he told her, and he looked like he seriously didn't mind, preoccupied with drying out wet beer mugs that he'd no doubt left dirty the night before. Her boss was really laid back, which was great. Her dad liked that about him, and her mom didn't like the fact that he let his waitresses wear such short shorts.

Julie tied on her apron quickly, getting a little smack of greeting on her arm from Arlene as she passed by with someone's burger on a plate. Time to dive in. Her tables were waiting. She gave an impatient-looking couple a big apologetic smile.

"What can I get for you guys?"

 

 

Bon Temps, in Julie's opinion, was an improvement over Dillon, but not a huge one. There wasn't but one dance studio, and that studio only offered ballet and tap for the six-year-old crowd. All the other places that offered dancing lessons involved stripper poles. Unlike Dillon, Bon Temps had a massively seedy underbelly hidden behind its church-going, god-fearing camouflage. In Dillon, it had been all about status symbols, suburbia, and rigid adherence to the norm, but in Bon Temps, things were mostly run-down and relaxed. There were big, sprawling old houses and trailers, and not a whole lot in between.

Her family had moved into a starter house built in the forties instead of a big old creaky plantation house, which meant she had to share a room with Gracie Belle, but she was going to go to LSU in the fall, so she'd only suffered the fate for a year. Now that she was older, her parents let her stay out later and work at a place that had a pool table, so it was a decent trade, and now that she had her own car (a used red Geo) she could drive to the outlet mall a couple of hours away whenever she really needed to get away.

The coolest thing about working at Merlotte's was Sookie Stackhouse. Everyone said different things about her. Some thought she was psychic, had superpowers. Others just thought she was crazy, or a slut, and Julie knew for a fact that she was a fang-banger because her boyfriend, Vampire Bill, had come around to pick her up from work several times.

But Julie thought Sookie was really nice and classy. She had an open mind about vampires, and if Sookie and Bill were the blueprint for how a vampire/human relationship could work, then everyone should follow it.

Sookie came in before the dinner rush, all smiles.

"Hey, Sookie," Julie greeted her. She'd stopped wondering if Sookie could read her mind after the first week or so, so she didn't bother to try and not think about how she could tell every single time Sookie hooked up with Bill by the way she glowed and waltzed around Merlotte's like she was in a dream.

"Hey, Miss Julie," Sookie responded, and it was as if she intrinsically understood how to say that without making it sound like she was some church lady pinching Julie's cheek, or Julie's mother. "You look so pretty today!"

Julie's hair was in a sloppy ponytail -- or rather, it was coming out of one -- and she was in her usual uniform, the requisite shorts and tight white t-shirt with the Merlotte's logo on it, so this was an exaggeration.

"I really mean it!" Sookie said, reaching out to tuck back some of the hair escaping Julie's hold on it, and earnestly looked deep into Julie's soul. "Why, your skin is just glowin' like peaches an' cream, and your freckles are just _charming_."

"Have a good night with Bill?" Julie teased, turning in response to the pick-up bell and gathering a tray of burgers, grilled sandwiches, and onion rings.

"It was the best sex of my life!" Sookie said, grinning widely, dimples out in full force.

"That's... great," Julie said, laughing. She was a lot more realistic about stuff like this, but then, she was kind of like her parents, which was no fun. She'd probably never find a boyfriend again.

"You got nothin' to worry about," Sookie told her randomly, reassuringly, then was flagged down by Sam.

"Good to know," Julie called over her shoulder, and passed on Sookie's big, genuine smile to table four as she passed out their food. "Can I get y'all some more iced tea?"

 

 

"I don't know what's going on with Tara these days," Sam told Sookie. "You think I should replace her?"

Sookie and Sam had this conversation a lot.

"We manage fine without her, but if I leave her spot open, Tara will think she can just walk back into it whenever she decides she needs a job again," Sam said, fiddling with his favorite rag.

Personally, Sookie would rather have Tara walking back in, irresponsible and full of ire, to tend bar, because she liked having her best friend right there with her, and Sam at her side, and Bill just outside this place. It wasn't that she needed protection, or didn't need alone time -- she just liked to keep the people close to her _close_ , now, in case one of them wound up in a dying type of situation.

"Well, do what you think is best. It's your bar," advised Sookie with a shrug.

"It is?" Sam asked teasingly.

"Well, you got me, Arlene, Miss Julie, Terry in the kitchen doin' the burger-flippin'..." Sookie paused. That did seem a bit short-handed, and the waitresses all worked longer shifts these days. She didn't mind; it gave her something to do with her days besides wait to see Bill.

"Between you and me, I placed an ad in the newspaper last week. I've gotten a couple of calls, just looky-loos, people curious about your boyfriend and his crowd. People just don't want to work here after everything that's happened."

Sookie didn't need to listen to Sam's thoughts to know what he thought about Bill, and she didn't want to know what he thought of her, of Tara. There was an annoying babble going on at the corner table, some woman who couldn't stop thinking about cheating on her husband with one of the guys playing pool ( _I should just do it, I should just do it, he does it to me, it serves him right, haven't had sex with anyone else in so long I don't remember what it's like, what if it ain't worth it, what if Jack finds out, I should just do it_ ), and it was enough work to shove all that away.

In a strange counterpoint, there was a presence outside, approaching the place, that was blank and cool. She thought for a second that it was Bill, but it wasn't -- it felt different, felt lost. Bill was never lost. But one thing was for certain. It was the mind of a vampire. She didn't think she should say so to Sam; for a shapeshifter and a guy who wanted a bug-crazy mind-reader, he sure was prejudiced.

"Someone'll come in lookin' for a job sooner or later, times bein' what they are," Sookie said distractedly, eye trained on the door as the vampire slouched in.

He wasn't like any vampire Sookie had yet seen. He looked totally normal. No one else would think he was a vampire in those cowboy boots. He had a plaid shirt on, and it was clumsily mis-buttoned, open at the collar. He was wearing aviator-style sunglasses and his hair hung down around his face, looking limp and dirty, and his face looked pale, along with his lips. He was long and lean, like a cowboy barely out of his teens.

After a pause, he headed straight for the bar, where he sank into a chair and put his head down on crossed arms. Car keys and a rumpled green bill were clutched in his hand.

Before Sam could take point on him, Sookie weaved her way around him and asked the man, "Sir? Is there anything I can get for you?"

"AB," said the man, muffled into his sleeve. He didn't otherwise move.

"Positive or negative?" Sookie asked, throwing a glance at Sam, who gave her a dead annoyed look and turned to take the pick-up Sookie was ignoring.

"Pos."

Sookie worked fast to pick out the right type of TruBlood, which she was getting more experienced and quick at the longer she was with Bill, and heated it impatiently, watching the slumping vampire over one shoulder with concern. She wondered if he was close to starving to death.

Not in her bar!

Or Sam's bar. Same thing.

"Here you go," she said encouragingly, as soon as the microwave beeped. The bottle of blood was disturbingly warm in her fingers as she placed it on a cocktail napkin in front of the vampire.

She got no thanks in return, but she didn't need one, because the vampire managed to pull his head up. He grasped at the bottle and steadily drained it, looking starved for it and pained to have to have it glugging down his throat at the same time. Sookie knew how preferable real human blood was, and she also knew that a starving vampire in a room full of humans who wasn't sucking the life out of them all was a promising individual.

A semblance of color was returning to the vampire's face -- he was still pale, a little too sick or dead-looking, but much better than before.

"Well, now, you were hungry," Sookie observed, friendly. "You want another?"

"No," the man said. "Tastes like shit."

"You ever tried another type? My boyfriend, he prefers O negative."

"They all taste like shit," he said. "Like licking shit off the floor of some lab. Bleach and the dirt on everyone's shoes."

"I'm real sorry," she offered, understanding. She still remembered how things tasted when Bill's blood had been coursing through her. It was like 3-D Technicolor overdrive, every whiff or bite of something taking her to faraway places, up in the sky or down in the ground or swaying on tree branches.

The vampire sniffed, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, ignoring the napkin she'd put down. Then he said, "I'll take another."

"AB positive again?"

"Gimmie whatever your boyfriend likes."

Normally, that kind of thing might make Sookie feel like she was going to get hit on, but with this guy -- he just seemed hungry, and lonely for a friend.

"Comin' right up."

 

 

Jason Stackhouse pulled up to Merlotte's still sweaty from his day on the football field of Bon Temps High, neck sunburned, khaki shorts and red B.T.H. Athletics polo shirt still on.

No more roadwork for him -- this was a real job. An actual goddamn job, doing the only thing he was good at: football. Of course, the new coach didn't make him feel like he was any damn good at it, but Jason respected the man anyway.

"Hey, Jason!" his sister Sookie greeted him, soon as he walked in the door of the place. It was Saturday night, peak hours, so several other people called out the same thing to him, and he gave them all a big wave of his arm.

"Get me a beer, would ya, Sook?" He leaned against the bar as if he was going to do push-ups off it. "I'm beat."

"I will not. I'm waiting tables," Sookie said, whisking off a tray.

Things were weird with his sister right now -- they'd had a big fight, then made up with each other, but Sookie didn't like him going to church. Likewise, he wasn't sure about her dating a vampire now that he was off V. They were just as likely to withhold affection from each other as they were to give it, lately. You just never knew with Sookie.

"Oh, _now_ she's waiting tables. How's it goin' on the field, Jason?" Sookie's boss asked him, providing the beer Sookie had denied him.

"Good," Jason was happy to say. "Real good! I tell you what, Sam, this is the best job I've ever had. This new coach, he really knows what he's doing. I'm even learning a thing or two."

"They say you learn something new every day," said Sam.

"That is true, I know it is. You never know everything, and the second you think you do, it really just goes to show how much you don't know nothing." Jason was really philosophical and wise now that he was out of jail and back in church. "Except," he said, wiping the cold condensation from his beer mug onto his face with his wet hand, "I'm pretty sure Coach Taylor actually does know everything. Man, he makes me feel stupid."

Next to him, some drunk guy shifted to look at him. Maybe he was being too loud.

"Anyway, Julie around?" he asked Sam, more hushed.

"Nope. She got off at seven. And she's too young for you."

"She ain't in high school no more!"

"So what. She ain't in college yet either. And her mother will very likely kill you with a single glare if you even try to get in her pants," Sam said, sounding really certain, like he knew this in a personal way.

"Coach Taylor? Eric Taylor?"

It was the guy next to them, who seemed like he wasn't sure where he was or of the name he was drawling out confusedly.

"That's right. I'm assistant coach over at Bon Temps High," Jason said proudly. After all, he hadn't been fired yet.

"Julie Taylor works here?"

"Yes, she does," Sam said, carefully measured.

The guy next to him, who seemed whacked right out of it, looked at Jason through sunglasses, then at Sam.

"Oh... I know her from high school," he said, lamely. "She lives here now? For sure? In this town?"

"She works here, don't she?" Jason pointed out.

The man stood, sliding out of his seat with a notable amount of energy, much more than he'd had the entire time he'd slumped at Sam's bar and dumped TruBlood after TruBlood into his system.

"Thank you, sir," he said distantly, and unfolded the twenty he'd had stuffed in his fist like he might never let it go. He placed it on the counter, then said, "Thank that girl for me. The one that smells really good."

"That guy went to high school with Julie? What're the odds?" Jason wondered.

"I sincerely doubt he was being truthful," said Sam, staring after at his back as he shuffled out the door.

 

 

Coach Eric Taylor had made it through another long day, and all he wanted to do was laze back in his recliner and watch his tapes -- well, no. He wanted to watch a movie. But he still had work to do. Julie came home from work, laughing at the way he was sitting all by himself in the dark watching tapes, dinner table bare, and turned on the lights and made him a sandwich.

"All I do all day long is carry around food to lazy people like you," she'd complained. "It's not that hard to make a sandwich."

"Where is your mother?" Coach Taylor asked her.

"Church, probably," said Julie.

Tami, who had first sworn she'd got her fill _for life_ of being a guidance counselor to angsty teens and of trying to make a difference in the state of education in Dillon, Texas, was now overly-involved in restructuring the church preschool Gracie Belle attended and was advancing in the ranks of the Bon Temps PTA.

"I don't like that Lettie Mae woman seeing my wife more than I do," Coach Taylor complained right back.

"At least it's not book club?" Julie said, and helped herself to an organic apple. Her mom always got them for her now, which was also an improvement.

"I don't like it," her dad repeated.

"How about your sandwich? Do you like your sandwich?"

"It's a very good sandwich."

"Tip your waitress," Julie suggested. The doorbell rang, and though Julie had apple juice dripping down her arm, she chirped, "I'll get it!"

"Aw, now, who is that. I am not in the mood. Buddy Garrity this morning, Jason Stackhouse all day... I'm not here."

"You're sitting right there, Dad," Julie said, hair swinging around her face as she went to answer the door on work-weary feet.

Coach Taylor bit into his sandwich and prayed it was just the woman next door wanting to know if Tami was there to talk to, or watch _Desperate Housewives_ with, or borrow a cup of sugar from, or whatever it was that woman always wanted. Julie made sandwiches expertly, after a year of working at Applebee's and a year at Merlotte's. She always piled everything on much higher than Tami did.

"Oh my God," he heard Julie say, then laugh awkwardly. "Hi! What... what are you _doing_ here?"

"I gotta talk to Coach," said a soft, familiar voice.

There was no possible way. Buddy Garrity had him thinking things that weren't true.

"Wow," said Julie. "Well, uh... come in! Did you drive all this way just to talk to him? 'Cause you could've called."

Coach Eric Taylor put down his very good sandwich.

"If that is Tim Riggins, you tell him to get his sorry butt back to Texas, get back in school, and graduate," he barked.

"Dad," Julie protested. "Look."

Sure as the devil, there was Tim Riggins, looking as drunk as he ever had, his shirt buttoned up wrong, his skin looking strange and sickly, like he was going to throw up all over Tami's rug. Julie was holding him by the arm, having also noticed that he looked unsteady on his feet. He didn't look a whole lot older than he had when he'd shaken Coach Taylor's hand at his goodbye and good riddance barbecue, only then, he'd looked certain. He'd smiled, and his hand had been firm, and he'd said, _Thanks for being like... a father to me._ He'd been seeing Buddy's daughter, and she'd been a good influence on him.

"For God's sake," said Coach Taylor, standing warily. "What've you gotten yourself into, son?"

Riggins had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

"Uh... well, I'm a vampire now, Coach."

 

 

Julie had been a sophomore the last time Tim Riggins had temporarily moved into her house, which had been weird enough then, but which was totally insane now that they were out of Dillon and Tim was a vampire -- a real, actual vampire, like Sookie's boyfriend.

Her parents didn't dislike vampires, exactly (well, they probably did but just didn't want to admit it and sound like small-minded bigots), but her dad was so pissed off all he did was pace around the room with his hands on his hips in full-on football coach mode and yell repeatedly at Tim. Tim had just stood there, seeming confused and apologetic, but ultimately way too grateful for what she guessed was the revisiting of an old tradition between the two of them.

"Well, now," her dad kept blustering, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it. Tell me what I'm supposed to do about it!"

"I don't... I didn't know where else to go," said Tim.

"What about that Lyla girl? She dump you again?"

"She doesn't... she's into that Sun church thing," Tim managed thickly. "She said she can't save me, that the only person who can save me is Jesus and all that, but he don't save vampires."

"That's awful," Julie told Tim.

"How about Billy? Didn't he marry that Collette woman? Isn't she a vampire?"

"Didn't stick," he said simply. Julie could guess why -- it wasn't legal to marry vampires anywhere except Vermont, so the marriage had probably dissolved. Tim continued, "Billy wasn't real happy when he found out he'd married a fang. Said he wasn't no fang-banger."

Eventually, her dad ran out of other options to tick through -- Jason Street had left Dillon to be with the mother of his child; Tyra Collette too had gotten out of Dillon and gone to college; Matt Saracen was in Iraq; Mindy Collette was so enraged at Billy's rejection she'd told him to go to hell and taken no sympathies on Tim. He really didn't have anywhere else to turn, if the only girl who had ever given him that many chances had finally given up on him and everyone Tim had been remotely close to had abandoned him somehow.

"Dad, please, please let him stay with us -- just for one day, and I'll ask my friend Sookie at work to find a place for him to go," she begged. "She's the one that's dating that vampire, you know? Bill Compton? She would know what to do, or she could ask Bill, or maybe Bill can help him."

Her mother had gotten home in a huff, then, with Gracie Belle on her arm, and the whole thing had started all over again, with her mom barely managing to keep a lid on her anxieties.

"Tim, honey, I'm so sorry," she said repeatedly, "but there's just no way I can let you stay here. It's not that I don't trust you -- it's not that I don't trust you! But I've got to think about my little Gracie Belle."

She was a control freak that way.

It was well past two in the morning by the time they had all decided that Tim -- who merely stood (then sat) and answered their questions with a furrowed brow and empty eyes, and who never once looked at a sleeping Gracie Belle hungrily -- could stay in the dank basement for a day while the sun was out and Julie talked to Sookie.

"I'll take care of him. I'll make sure he has food, and everything he needs," Julie said, not knowing who exactly she was reassuring, her parents or Tim.

"Well, this is just perfect," Tami fumed. "This town really needed another vampire. That Fangtasia place is attracting too much attention. Why'd we move here?"

"You wanted to get out of Texas," her dad shot back.

Julie tugged Tim's cool, clammy arm and lead him down the old wooden steps that her mom kept talking about getting replaced, feeling strangely nervous and excited at the same time. Being around Sookie had taught her to act totally normal around vampires, and it sort of wasn't a surprise that Tyra's older sister had been one all along, she'd hooked up with so many guys and had so many bad relationships. Still, she wondered if Tim was looking at her neck, if he was thinking about sucking her blood or whatever.

"So... we have a cot," she said awkwardly, "and, uh, I'll cover the window..."

She made for the duct tape and garbage bags, grabbing the first things that occurred to her, and Tim shuffled complacently into his temporary room.

"I'll bring you some TruBlood from work," she added. "We have too much of it anyway. We need to get rid of some of it. Vampires don't show really often, and when they do, they're usually just trying to find Bill. I think Bill's the only one who ever drinks it. And this guy, Hoyt, sometimes. He's not even a vampire."

"Thank you, Miss Julie," he said.

Miss Julie. That made Tim the second person who didn't say that like she was a little girl or an old lady.

"Sure," she responded, smiling at him and kneeing up onto a plastic bin full of old Dillon High School football tapes that her dad hadn't had the good sense to get rid of yet. They were too full of memories of his time mentoring Jason Street and Matt Saracen. She stood on them anyway. "Y'know, my boss has been looking for someone to help him out at the bar, the evening shift. Maybe I could get you a job..."

"I'm real hungry," Tim said, so softly it was almost to himself. Then he spotted the cot folded up against a shelf and dragged it out, metallic legs scraping against the cool cement floor. "Can't keep satisfied."

"I'll go to the store," she said. She was kind of going crazy with the duct tape, but she was afraid of one molecule of sunlight getting in and burning up the cute boy from school, and the garbage bags were slippery and thin.

It was true, what they said. Anybody could become a vampire. Nobody was safe. If Tim Riggins had been turned, people like Matt and Landry who had been on the team with him could be turned, which meant she could be turned. It was a frightening realization, one that had never sunk in all the way even though she'd said hi to a vampire plenty at work. He'd bitten Sookie, but she was still human. How did that work out? She didn't know how one became a vampire.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" she asked, then gasped. Tim was behind her. She hadn't heard him approach at all. All he did, though, was help her hold the garbage bag in place with a big, pale hand.

"Billion questions not enough for you?" he asked, smiling. His mouth looked dangerous all of a sudden.

"Who turned you into a vampire?" she blustered, peeling duct tape noisily. "... Was it Mindy Collette?"

Tim stared at her face, then at the floor.

"No," he said, and it wasn't hard to tell that the memory was incredibly unpleasant for him. For a moment, he was silent, like he couldn't spit it out -- then he did, all at once, his fangs descending with a shining snap. "Buddy Garrity."


End file.
